I Promise
by ChoCedric
Summary: AU. "Harry, what does she make you do?" Sirius asked in a barely controlled voice. "How does she make you write it?" A powerful moment between godfather and godson when Sirius asks Harry about the detentions he's had with Umbridge.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: I know it's been done before, but I really wanted to write my own take on this. Please review and let me know what you think!

I Promise

By: ChoCedric

Harry Potter sat in the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It was rather late at night, but he couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. Many intense thoughts were swirling around in his mind, and he couldn't get it to calm down. Severus Snape had come by this afternoon, explaining that Harry would have to take something called Occlumency. He was very worried and also not very pleased about this - another class with Snape, what a nightmare.

Also on his mind was the vision that he'd had about Mr. Weasley several nights ago. Even though the man was perfectly cured now, and back with his family, it still gave Harry shivers up and down his spine when he remembered being inside the snake's mind, enjoying tasting the man's blood ... the thought made bile rise in his throat. And also, he could never forget the graveyard in June, Cedric's blank, lifeless eyes, Voldemort slithering out of the cauldron, fully formed, and Harry having to duel him. And thoughts of this were inevitably linked to thoughts of the Ministry not believing him, and Professor Dolores Umbridge, the worst of the lot. His hand still occasionally stung from the words Harry had been made to write over and over again.

Suddenly, Harry heard quiet footsteps coming near the kitchen. He sat up straighter in his chair, wondering who else was up this late at night. Soon enough, Sirius Black walked in, and he seemed just as surprised to see Harry as Harry was to see him.

"Hey, kiddo," Sirius said gently as he saw the brooding look on Harry's face. He took a seat at the table next to him, summoning a glass and casting an Aguamenti charm, filling it with water.

"Hey, Sirius," Harry replied, managing a smile for his godfather. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I could ask you the same question," Sirius replied. "I couldn't sleep."

"Me, neither," admitted Harry, sighing heavily and resting his head on his arms.

"Hey," Sirius said softly, laying a hand on his godson's shoulder. "What's on your mind? You look terribly worried."

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, lifting his head from his arms. He did not want to worry Sirius. He knew the man was already extremely frustrated, being cooped up here in this house that he had wanted to get away from so badly as a child. The last thing he needed was a reason to be rash and reckless, landing himself back in Azkaban.

"Come on, Harry," Sirius said, not at all fooled. "You know you can tell me anything. Is it the vision you had about Mr. Weasley? I know that was bothering you for a long time."

Harry sighed, knowing Sirius wasn't about to give up. He would only keep asking until Harry told him the truth. His pretense of everything being okay had not reassured Sirius at all. "Yeah," he finally said after a few moments of silence.

"Kiddo, what happened to Mr. Weasley was not your fault." Sirius's voice was firm as he looked Harry directly in the eye. "If it wasn't for you, he would be dead, and you know it."

"But I was so scared," Harry admitted in a small voice. "At the time, I enjoyed what was happening! What kind of an evil person does that make me?"

Sirius's expression darkened and grew heartbroken as the grip on Harry's shoulder tightened. "Harry, listen to me very carefully," he said slowly, enunciating each word. "You are not evil. What you were feeling was Voldemort's emotions, Voldemort's feelings. Not yours. Do you understand me?"

The look Sirius was giving Harry was so intense that it took all of the boy's strength not to look away. His haunted gray eyes were full of sincerity, and Harry's heart pounded furiously as he struggled with himself. Did Sirius really mean it? Was he telling the truth?

They held eye contact for a very, very long time, Sirius trying to convey more and more every second that Harry didn't need to worry. Finally, Harry tore his eyes away, and whispered, "Yes."

"Good." Sirius ruffled Harry's hair affectionately. "Now, there's something else I need to speak with you about. I have my sources that you are receiving continuous detentions with that hag Dolores Umbridge."

Harry purposely kept his eyes away from Sirius now. Out of anyone in the world, he didn't want his godfather to know of the horrendous punishments he was given by Umbridge. He was afraid that if he knew, he would go off half-cocked and storm into Hogwarts to seek revenge, getting himself caught and locked up again, maybe even sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. That thought scared Harry more than anything. "Yeah," he said softly.

Sirius muttered obsceneties under his breath, his face growing furious just as Harry feared. "What does she make you do?" he said in a barely controlled voice.

"Nothing bad," Harry lied, his head down.

"Harry, please look at me." Sirius put a hand on Harry's chin, lifting it so he could look into his clouded emerald eyes. "Please tell me. What does she make you do?"

Once again, Harry was lost in Sirius's intense gaze. His eyes were full of fear. "Lines," he finally admitted quietly. "It's not so bad."

But the look in Sirius's eyes only intensified. "What kind of lines, and what does she make you write?" he said in a hard voice.

"I must not tell lies," Harry whispered, his face coloring with shame. But even as he said it, all the feelings he'd been keeping back rose to the surface. With each sentence he next spoke, his voice rose. "She thinks I'm lying about Cedric, and how he died. He didn't deserve it, he was only seventeen! And it's my fault, all my fault! She thinks it was a tragic accident that killed him! But it was Voldemort, and I let it happen! I couldn't protect him ..."

"Harry, stop it!" Sirius bellowed over Harry's rising hysteria. His face was a picture of rage now, and Harry thought for a fraction of a second that the rage was directed towards him. But in the next second, Sirius had pulled Harry into an embrace, crushing him to him so tightly that Harry couldn't break free. "This is not your fault," he said emotionally, his breaths shallow. "I told you this summer, Harry, and I will continue to say it until the message sinks in, but Cedric Diggory's death was not. Your. Fault. You had no idea that cup was a Portkey, you had no idea that it would lead you to that graveyard, you had no idea of any of it! And now, that hag is making you write lines ..." He suddenly grabbed both of Harry's hands, and a terrible feeling swept over the boy, knowing instinctively that somehow, some way, Sirius knew. He tried to pull them out of Sirius's grip, but the man was holding on too tightly. He brought the hands to his eyes, and when he saw the scars on one of them, he screamed, "No! No, Harry, please, no!"

Tears sprang to Harry's eyes, and he angrily blinked them back. "Sirius, stop!" he cried, his voice cracking. "Sirius, how did you ... I didn't want you to know!"

"When you said lines," Sirius said in a voice full of acidic anger, "I was afraid of this. The fact that you looked the way you did when you said it ... Harry, when I was a boy and I was sorted into Gryffindor, my parents made me write with one over the summer holidays. "I am a blood traitor." Look." He shoved his right hand in front of Harry's eyes, and Harry saw faded scars there.

"Oh, God," Harry said, seeing the pain in his godfather's eyes at the memory. "I'm sorry, Sirius. Your parents were evil."

"I don't care about them anymore," Sirius said bitterly, drawing Harry back into his embrace. Harry could feel Sirius's heart pounding in his chest. "I don't give a damn about my own scars anymore. All I care about is that Dolores Umbridge is making you carve words into yourself, and that is illegal! And you feel you deserve it. You think you deserve to be punished for Diggory's death. Why? Oh, Harry, why?"

This time, when the tears sprang to Harry's eyes, he couldn't blink them back. They were set free and trickled down his face. In a choked voice, he said, "Sirius, I didn't like Cedric. I was jealous of him! He was so happy ... he had people who really, really cared about him ... he was a much better champion than me."

"Oh, kiddo." Sirius's voice was laced with pain as he finally pulled away from the embrace. "That still gives you no reason to punish yourself. Even though you did not like the boy, Harry, I know you never wanted anything bad to happen to him. I know that you speak out to Dolores Umbridge because you want, need, the whole world to know what happened to him, and that he didn't deserve what he got. But Harry, you are being tortured, and you are torturing yourself. Please, Harry, please ... Cedric Diggory's death was none of your doing, and you do not deserve to be punished. And Harry, you have people who really, really care about you too, just like Cedric did. I've been a horrible godfather, an absolutely terrible one. I spent all that time away from you, revenge being the only thing on my mind, and I ... I love you, Harry. You were given to those bastard Dursleys, never knowing that all along there was someone around who would go to the ends of the earth for you."

Harry stared, stunned, at Sirius. The man's face displayed so much emotion that it was shocking. "You haven't been a horrible godfather," he said softly. "But ... you love me?"

"With all my heart," Sirius said, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

But could Harry really believe it? Did someone really love him, after all the years of isolation and loneliness? He knew his friends cared, but to have an adult, a real adult tell him they loved him ... it floored Harry. And was he really not to blame for Cedric's death? Harry had dredged up the memory of Cedric's lifeless body so many times, the look of his eyes staring into nothingness, and he had thought the look in them was almost accusatory. I know you didn't like me, Harry, but you went as far as to kill me? the eyes seemed to say. Had that been just his imagination, after all? Could he really believe Sirius, put his entire trust in him?

Sirius took a hold of Harry's scarred hand again, gently rubbing the letters with his thumb. "I love you, Harry," he repeated. "I need you to stop punishing yourself. I promise I won't go crazy and run to Hogwarts, but I will make damn sure Dolores Umbridge never returns there. I have my ways."

Harry looked doubtfully up at him. "I don't want you getting yourself locked up again," he said worriedly.

Harry, you have given me something to cling to in this dark world." Sirius whispered, meaning every word. "I promise I will not do anything ever again that will take me away from you. There's not a day that passes that I don't miss your mum and dad, but you, Harry ... you are the one thing I can hold onto. You, and Moony. You're all I have left. And I need you to know that no matter what happens, I will always be there for you."

A few more tears fell down Harry's face, but these were ones of relief. "Thanks, Sirius," he whispered. "I love you, too."

And he did. What he felt for Sirius was beyond description. It scared him a little, that he could feel so much emotion for anyone. Two years ago he had thought the man wanted nothing more than to finish what Voldemort started and kill him, just like he had his parents. But now, he could barely remember those days. The relationship he and his godfather shared was one he wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

Sirius smiled, some of the ghosts of Azkaban disappearing from his gray eyes. "Never forget what I've said, kiddo," he said softly.

"I won't," Harry replied, smiling back. "I promise." 


End file.
